


Edge of Paradise

by Twisted_Mind



Series: Tidelands post-S1 'verse [2]
Category: Tidelands (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/M, First Time, Handcuffs, M/M, Multi, Non-Graphic Smut, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 01, Sirens, Spoilers, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: At 14, she went away for ten years--and she learned a lot in prison, but she has just as much to catch up on. She doesn't mind so much when she has Corey and Dylan to make her firsts memorable.





	Edge of Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> I fell down the Tidelands rabbit hole again. It's just so good. There's so much fodder. I'm sO eMoTiOnAlLY cOMpRoMisED *wailing*
> 
> Ahem. Anyway. You get feelgood porn out of it. You don't have to read the first fic in this series to understand this one, but I strongly recommend watching at least a little of Tidelands before diving in, here. The spoilers are fairly mild, but they do exist. 
> 
> Happy Friday!

 

 

Her first time with Corey is rushed—a heat of the moment bad decision that she can’t regret, and she’s too busy drowning in the rush of skin-on-skin and the pleasure singing in her blood to say anything. Her first time with Dylan is much the same, for all that it’s different—next to the beach (and isn’t that fitting, given what they are?), less a decision than a break in the face of bottomless need. It’s good, he _makes_ it good, and the way he touches her—gently, with obvious skill—shows her just how much she’s been missing.

And as much as she wants to dive back into bed with them—Dylan or Corey or both—as much as the hunger for what they can give her burns under her skin, she knows this can’t be put off any more. Before, there was l’Attente and the Tidelanders to worry about, and they agreed to go slow. But they’ve brokered a temporary stability now, and her boys need to know.

So she tells them. It’s the first time she talks to either of them about this, and it’s deliberate and awkward, because there are some truths she knows better than to try and hide.

(She was in prison, and nothing about that meant it was safe for her to explore the desire that’s as much a part of her as the ocean. She was too young when she went in, and couldn’t afford to develop _that_ sort of reputation if she wanted to avoid the trap of either trading her body or spending every moment fending off unwanted hands. The fact that she’s a Tidelander, that she had an allure, put her in even more danger, because she had no idea how to control it, how to turn it into a weapon rather than a weakness.

So there was ten years of nothing but the occasional near-silent release she found in her own touch after lights-out, and a handful of experiences with another inmate she tries not to think about.)

She’s out of her depth, and while she wants to bull her way forward with this as with everything else, she knows that isn’t in her own best interest. So she sits them down, and tells them point-blank that there’s a lot she doesn’t know, doesn’t have experience with, thanks to Rosa and police corruption.

Dylan nods like he expected that, but Corey seems floored, like it never occurred to him. They exchange a look they think she doesn’t notice—idiots, the pair of them—and then Dylan asks if they can take her to bed.

She agrees, because she’s _not_ an idiot. And also because she wants their skin under her hands and against her own like she wants air.

The first time with them both—with all three of them—starts with her sitting back-to-chest with a shirtless Corey, cradled by the sheer bulk of his body as Dylan lies on his stomach between her legs. Corey holds her, whispers against her neck and kisses her jaw as she writhes and sobs on Dylan’s tongue.

It’s hot and wet, _lush_ , so good it almost hurts, like the first breath of water feels when she goes under, except the rush that follows isn’t relief, or power. She doesn’t know what it is, just that she’s panting from the intensity, gripping Dylan’s hair and Corey’s forearm to anchor herself.

It takes the both of them to keep her in place—Corey’s arms locked around her torso and Dylan’s hands on her thighs—when she comes. After, Dylan’s hands are soft as he cups her face and kisses her. It makes her lungs squeeze, because she _knows_ there’s power in those hands, in his body, just like her own (she felt it, as he held her down and danced his tongue over her clit until she came in his mouth), but he always touches her carefully, gently.

She wonders how he learned that gentleness, given his life under Adrielle, and wants to cry. She’s distracted by the way he leans over her shoulder to kiss Corey, and her breath hitches because this, _this_ she didn’t expect. For a fraction of a second, she’s worried that this is going to end badly, but Corey kisses back.

It’s short, and chaste, but clearly not unwelcome. It sparks something in her pelvis—it’s not quite arousal, but could become it. Before she can ask if they need her to give them some time alone, they’re moving—Corey slides out from behind her to shuck his pants while Dylan gathers her into his lap. The feel of his leather pants against her bare legs is delicious, although she wonders why he’s still wearing them.

She can feel that he’s hard beneath them, and he chuckles when she grinds against him. She doesn’t understand why until Corey’s lying flat and Dylan’s helping her straddle him. She rolls her hips, eyes closed as she tries to find the rhythm that worked for them last time.

Cal doesn’t expect Dylan, and she startles when he slots up against her back, one big hand sliding down her stomach to touch her. It makes her arch, and he takes her weight, murmuring encouragements as she goes over the edge of her second orgasm, dragging Corey with her.

After, she lies cradled between them, spent. They run their hands over her, and she doesn’t know what to think about any of it, so she doesn’t. She naps instead.

In the days that follow, she thinks about it a lot. About the way there was no jealousy or dick-measuring between the two of them, about the way they worked together to make her feel good. She also thinks about the way Dylan didn’t come, didn’t even get naked, and she wonders.

(If Corey’s surprised when she asks him about it, he doesn’t show it—he just assures her that he and Dylan have talked about it, are fine with sharing her, with maybe more than just sharing, but that he’s never been with a man before.)

And, while the sex is fantastic, that stays the same. She beds them, separately and together, and Dylan always waits to take his pleasure until they’re alone. Meanwhile, Dylan and Corey slowly, _slowly_ get more comfortable with each other.

That all changes the first time Dylan moves her blood.

He’d told her, of course, what Tidelanders could do. And she’d even done it herself, but never like this—she’d put blood back inside a body, pulled water out of Augie’s lungs, accidentally drawn Corey’s blood out right through his skin the first time they kissed. So Cal thinks she can be forgiven for not realizing this particular talent could be applied in more pleasant, subtle ways.

She’s not prepared for what it does to her when Dylan teases her through her jeans, hand cupping her and coaxing blood to pool between her thighs. His clever ringed fingers always make her weak in the knees, but this, _feeling_ him in her blood and the way he pulls it towards himself, nearly makes her blind with need.

She’s so desperate that she comes twice on Corey’s tongue and fingers before begging Dylan to take her—knowing, somehow, that he’s the only one who can put out the fire he started. To his credit, he doesn’t deny her—merely strips down, gathers her up, pins her to the wall, and drives into her until she comes with a cry and goes limp.

As she lies there, dazed and panting, Corey asks question after question, fascinated. He, like most of Orphelin Bay, steered clear of Tidelanders—at least until Cal. His curiosity reminds her of a puppy’s.

Dylan tries to explain, but he can only do so much. Cal gets it—there aren’t words for what she just experienced.

So she’s not surprised when Corey’s willing to play guinea pig for her to learn, but the sight of him naked and at ease, cuffed to the headboard, makes her mouth go dry. Dylan wraps around her from behind, asking if she’s ready, and she nods.

He places his hand over hers, low on Corey’s stomach, and starts moving Corey’s blood. It’s softer than she expects—a whisper, compared to the frantic shouting of the other times she’s used this gift. She remembers the first time they ever talked about this, and he told her his gift is weaker, that she, like the other female Tidelanders, are “more their mother’s daughters”, and thinks it might not be a bad thing, if it makes him better able to do _this_.

She takes over carefully, manipulating Corey’s blood flow until he’s so hard he’s begging. It’s heady, and she rides him long and slow, Dylan’s hand on his belly holding off his climax until she gasps, “Now,” and he lets go. She rides out the aftershocks as Corey spills inside her.

After, she pulls Dylan down onto the bed with them, kissing him hungrily as she wraps a hand around him, stroking until he stiffens with a low moan.

They branch out from there, both her boys willing to let her practise with her gift, and more and more often, she goes to bed with both of them.

But it’s Corey she goes to, the first time she asks for a lesson in how to suck them off. Dylan, for all his gentleness, is so much more experienced than either of them, and she’s afraid of disappointing him. Corey understands, and is sweet and patient as she learns, pressing his trembling legs against the bed—or chair, depending on where they are—so he doesn’t choke her.

She’s just starting to get the hang of it the day Dylan walks in on them. Cal’s heart starts pounding and she stutters out an apology, but he just drops down next to her, between Corey’s spread legs, and grips her jaw to kiss her. He licks Corey’s taste out of her mouth, and it’s hotter than it has any right to be. When she breaks away for air, he winks, and then takes Corey into his mouth, sinking down-down-down until Corey’s nestled in his throat. He swallows and the good officer comes with a strangled sound, one hand cradling the back of his head.

After that, she and Corey are less hesitant to take advantage of Dylan’s experience. Dylan, for his part, is happy to spend hours in bed—with either or both of them—kissing and touching and sharing what he knows, puppy-like in his eagerness to please and willingness to indulge them. They get more adventurous, but it takes months before Dylan makes a request.

The first time he does, Cal and Corey trip over themselves to agree and strip him down. He doesn’t seem to expect that, doesn’t realize just how much she cherishes him, how sweet Corey is on him, so they show him—Corey moaning his appreciation against her clit as Dylan fingers him open before slotting them all together like puzzle pieces. Corey’s in the middle, Dylan driving him into her, and as she gasps under their weight, comforted instead of crushed as stars burst behind her eyelids, she already wants to do this a second time, a third—wants to know them inside and out, wants to experience every bit of pleasure their combinations can create.

Almost as sweet as her orgasm is the knowledge that she can, because they’re hers, and she’s theirs, because she _belongs_ for the first time in her life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me about my beautiful half-siren babies on [Tumblr](https://queerfictionwriter.tumblr.com/).


End file.
